An Old Face In A New Place
by Queendom of Crows
Summary: When Kix, a veteran from the now fifty-year prior galactic civil war wakes up from his carbon-frozen capsule, he thinks his fight is over. But soon enough, he can no longer ignore the call of his creation and seeks out the Resistance, a military group in opposition to the tyranny of the First Order. Or, a series of one-shots exploring this very possible possibility.
1. Chapter 1

He had found the Resistance, eventually. He should have known the call to fight for good would catch up to him. It was in his bones, in his blood, in his memories. There was no stopping it. So, when the opportunity had come, he had said goodbye to Sidon Ithano's bounty hunting crew and followed the Resistance agents he had met to their ship.

"We need more medics," they had said. "Especially ones with field experience." And that's how, less than a year after coming out of his fifty year cryofreeze, CT-6116, better known as Kix, Chief Medical Officer of the Clone Wars Era 501st Attack Battalion, or, at least, formerly, found himself in the middle of yet another war. Currently standing in front of the Resistance base's medbay doors.

"Come on Kix, pull yourself together. It's just another medbay, you've done this before." he took another calming breath and ignored the sympathetic look his guide, a Weequay named Mishar, sent his way. She must have caught that last bit.

The door opened. It was a side door, for medics only, so they didn't have to be caught up in the traffic of the main entrance when things got busy.

"Well, this is the place." she made a waving gesture as if showing off the rooms' molty cots and beaten up equipment. Which was newer, in the sense that they were more advanced than what Kix had worked with back in his day but still looked pretty run down. "We move every few months but- uh, you already knew that."

He shot her a grateful smile. "It's been a few years, but I'm sure I can be of some use."

She snorts. "We'll be the judge of that beard boy. You'll meet the others later, but first, let's finish up this tour,"

She showed him the rest of the bay. It wasn't much. Small, for a medical center, but he was used to less than stellar conditions. The aforementioned equipment and cots were under par, but then again, so was the entire base. Resources were tight with the kind of operation they were running, he supposed. There were only a few bedridden patients and even fewer staff. As well as a damp, earthy smell that permeated the whole building, but here it was mixed with the smell of strong sanitizers and a faint whiff of blood.

"Cute," was all he had to say when the tour ended. Mishar laughed.

"You'll fit right in pretty boy. Don't you worry." she led them over to a box of data pads muttering, ' _cute_ , oh he'll be _great_ ,' she then snatched the one on the top of the pile and shoved it into his hands. "I heard you're a bit rusty, so read up. And be ready to go as soon as you can. Dinner is in three standard hours, I'll drop by to show you to the mess and the barracks. See you then," and, with a quick unexpected pat on the shoulder, sauntered out of the room. Leaving Kix with homework, more questions, and his lonesome.

He sighed and looked down at the simple device, resigning himself to his fate. Flicking it on and watching it boot up with a familiar blue glow. He had a lot to learn and a lot to adjust to, but he would do it. Not for himself, but for them. So that their deaths would not be in vain. Their memory _will_ be honored. His brothers, his commander, his general. He would do this for them. Because he knew they would do the same for him.

He had a choice.

"And I choose to fight."

 _Fin._

* * *

 **AN:** so. Yeah. short and crappy and written in the space of a few hours. But I'm proud. And I like it. (for the most part)

This all happened because I recently found out that mY BOY KIX IS FREAKING _ALIVE_ AT THE TIME OF THE NEW TRILOGY. Holy kriffing heck. All the possibilities...I*Am*So*Excited*! I was legit just scrolling through his wookie page for another fic when I found out and I FREAKED the KRIFF out- but I was in class so I had to make it _look_ like I wasn't and yeah.

Anyway, I do plan on making a couple more snippets for this thing. Short ones. Hopefully soon. Pray for me guys. Or maybe just review instead? Idk.

XOXO- QueendomofCrows.


	2. Chapter 2

Shortly after Kix joined a serious commotion arose. From what he had heard, an elite pilot had been dispatched some days ago to retrieve classified information and still hadn't been heard from. And that coupled with the intel about the First Order's new superweapon meant there was a certain amount of...tension. Nothing he wasn't used to.

He had gotten situated in his new workplace with some effort. He was comfortable with the change in location, having had plenty of experience with that (he was a _field_ medic for Force's sake.) What had really thrown him for a loop was the faces. So many different faces. In what had, in his time, been a pretty steady stream of identical (or near identical) brothers, occasionally interrupted by those foolhardy Jedi, was now an unharmonious mix of facial features, species, sizes, and colors. Where once he had been merely one of the millions, now he was...unique. Totally and completely. It seemed even that part of his identity had been taken from him.

His official work shift ended at 2300 hours standard rotation time and his coveted rest cycle began. Long after the rest cycle for most of the base began. But medical personnel have always existed on a different plane than other beings.

Kix had taken to long walks around the compound after his shift to get rid of any leftover caf jitters before he went to bed. He had seen just about everything that didn't require clearance to see. From the hangers to the lookout posts to the dumpsters (a less than wise decision on his part.) So he decided to revisit one of his first routs.

Thirty minutes later he had quite lost track of time and had somehow gotten lost. Taken a wrong turn at some point because; here he was. In a deserted hallway. After hours... _oh kriffing_ \- wait. Someone was coming. Someone was coming and he wasn't supposed to be here.

 _Kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff_ \- spotting a door on the other side of the hallway he made a dash for it, punching the open button on the control panel and slipping inside as the door slid shut. He waited with baited breath as the footsteps drew nearer, the tension in his shoulders mounting, mounting, _mounting_ \- and suddenly, the fear and anticipation drained out. Replaced by the feeling of utter foolishness and stupidity. _What am I doing? What was I thinking?_ Whoever that was probably could have helped him find his way out of here. And he wouldn't be in too much trouble for being out this late, it's not _that_ big of a deal. _I'm so stupid._ His ears felt like they were on fire. _I can still catch up to them, ask them for directions or something._ He turned open the door once again when something caught his eye. Something blue and white. Metallic, about waist height, with a domed top.

 _There's no way._ He rotated again, this time his eyes strained against the dimness in hopes of catching another glimpse of the impossible. Because there's no way. _There's no way._ After all these years. After all this time. There's no way his luck is good enough to land him on the same chunk of rock as- _R2-D2_. There he was. The little droid that had wheeled beside the 501st and its general in rain and shine, through thick and thin. His paint job was a tad faded and there were a few more noticeable dents and scratches on the plating. Looking closer, Kix noticed a thick layer of dust covering the astromechs' outer plating. Reverently he brushed it off. Here, sitting tucked away in storage, sat a link. A physical connection to his past life. His purpose, his general, his _brothers._ A solemn monument to the sacrifices made, the lives that had slipped through his fingers. To the families torn apart, _his_ family torn apart, over and over again.

Why...why was this the only thing? Why was that war all but forgotten? The true significance of it, what it meant to the people who fought it. A slave army. The clones and the Jedi. Why was the only scrap of recognition they got, their entire legacy, attributed to the rise of the empire? As if everything before then never existed. Then again, to the public, the war never meant the same thing as it did to the rest of them. The public weren't the ones sending their sons off to fight. They weren't the ones watching brother after brother being mowed down in some stupid pointless- _pain_. From were? _His hand_. Kix jerked upright. He had barely registered the action of driving his fist into the crate beside him, but the throbbing pain that was spreading down his arm would not let him ignore it. It wasn't healthy, he knew. There were better ways to release stress, but- _sithspit._ It was a welcome distraction from the pain of the growing lump in his throat, the clenching of his stomach, the horrible, awful, _emptiness_ in the pit of his gut. An emptiness that had been there since he had been lucid enough to grasp at what Ithano and his crew were saying. _Republic...destroyed...is no...Jedi...gone...clones...all...dead_.

The lone survivor sighed and sank to the ground propped up against the blue and white droid. Force he just _missed_ them all _so much_. Everything he had been raised to fight for, everyone he had fought for, gone. Dead. And what hurt most of all? What hurt more than losing his family? The knowledge that he wasn't there with them. The knowledge that, when the time had come, he wasn't there, shoulder to shoulder with his brothers, ready to fight, ready to feel, ready to die. He wasn't there. He was here. Here, where everything was all wrong. Here, where the Jedi, valiant and trustworthy leaders and warriors, were a relic of a distant time. Here, where the cloned army that had fought alongside them had _turned their weapons against them._ Here, where everything he knew was out of date, out of place.

Just like him.

Kix couldn't find the strength to get up for a long time.

 _Fin._

* * *

AN: heyo! Looks like I actually updated this thing! _But wait!_ I hear your cries of disbelief, _Queendom, you're telling me you_ _ **actually**_ _make stories with multiple chapters?_ But alas, my dear friend, I do indeed. Tiss a spectacle I intend to repeat, in fact. This story is really something to push myself to just getting stuff written, done and posted; which is the real culprit when it comes to me and my non-existent updating schedule. But you don't care about that! All you want to hear is that I have two more chapters planned (and need I stress, PLANNED) for this story and a much-closer-on-the-horizon Christmas-shot to celebrate the season this fine two-thousandth and seventeenth year after that of our lord.

Oh, and, yes. My dear boy Kix. I'm sorry.

Happy Holidays!

XOXO- QueendomofCrows


	3. Chapter 3

The word morning, for many, is associated with shining sunrises and light catching dewdrops, beings of all kind bustling with activity. Some going to sleep, others awakening.

Not for Kix.

Kix, the master of rational decisions, had volunteered to take over the shift of his fellow medic, a Mon Calamari named Duunja, for extra sugar rations. Never mind that he was a grown man, decorated war vet, and highly skilled medic. That blasted fish had played to his one weakness. The one temptation he couldn't resist. And now here he was, suffering the irreversible consequences of his actions. Missing out on sleep for sugar.

Worth it.

Of course, he regretted it now, as he was sorting through crates of medicines. Cataloguing their assorted contents. But it'll all be worth it when he's got those sweet sweet confections in his mouth.

His fond reminiscence was disrupted when he heard his name.

"Kix! Hey, Kix!"

The medic turned toward the voice, finding that it belonged to Nilkn, one of the junior nurses. The boy was young. Too young to be here, living life on the run. At least Kix had been trained for this.

"Yeh?" called Kix when Nilkn had caught up to him.

Poor kid was noticeably out of breath when he spoke, "Mishar sent me to fetch you, she needs you back in the bay. It's an emergency,"

Kix scrambled to his feet, his previous work forgotten. "Alright then, come on, let's go,"

When they reached the medbay it was nothing more than a crowded hectic mess. Assistant droids whizzing past, lights flaring and machines blaring, medical staff in a panic...that last one was never a good sign. Spotting Mishar conversing with some of the other senior medics, Kix moved through the frenzied throng to get to her.

"Mishar, what's going on?" he called as soon as he was in hearing range.

"Kix!" the Weequay started when she saw him, "There you are. Listen, the pilots that pulled a run on Starkiller base just got back. They're being looked-"

"Wait, wait, wait- what? A run on Starkiller base? When?"

Mishar looked just about ready to kill him for that one. "Where have you been for the past _two days_ Kix?" she hissed.

"Uh...out of it?"

The irate doctor pinched the bridge of her nose, then, apparently having better things to do than scold her subordinate for his incompetence, began again in a slow, clear way one would use when speaking to a youngling. "The fighter piolets just got back from a successful run on the First Order's most powerful weapon. They're being checked over right now. Our real problem is that First Order dissenter. He got slashed across the back with a lightsaber."

"A lightsaber? But I thought all the Jedi were-"

"Dead or missing, yeah, yeah. But the First Order still has some lightsaber wielding lackeys that's a pain in the rear." Mishar's normally sarcastic tone had an edge to it. As did her posture.

A dark-haired man standing next to her fixed Kix with a solemn look. "Unfortunately, the old Empire destroyed a lot of the old Jedi records. Which were, naturally, the best sources on lightsaber based injuries. We're going to have to come up with most of the procedure ourselves,"

Kix sucked in a breath. They were asking for help. They had no clue how to help this young man so they were asking for his help. But to reveal he knew _exactly_ what to do might raise questions about his past that he really didn't want to get into.

In the end he couldn't decide which side of his warring mind to listen to.

So he compromised, ' _What do you need me to do?'_ And cringed.

Days later, he sat in a private room. Doing a checkup on the bacta pod that the boy, Finn, as he had come to be known, laid in.

Kix wished he could help more. Wished he could do more for him without having to hide it. He had helped as best he could. Slipping the boy a different medicine than what had been recommended, slathering the bandages with a special mineral infused bacta cream, strapping the boy down in the pod. (He had treated Skywalker, Tano, and Kenobi. He could say from experience, traps were more than necessary) But it still felt like... _like you're a kriffing coward that's what._

Kix found himself staring at the face of the boy, no, the _soldier_ , who had disobey direct orders.

Part of his mind was positively appalled. It screamed and raged because _good soldiers follow orders! Good soldiers obey! This one was defective, a traitor, he needed to be destroyed. Eradicated. Erased. Erased from history, from memory, from existence. So that rebellion would never_ ever _happen again. A fault like this in the system meant the entire thing could come crumbling down at any moment. An army couldn't function without foot soldiers. If they became disloyal, everything would be chaos. It was absolutely unacceptable and-_

 _Stop_.

Kix placed a heavy hand on the front of the pod. " _What happens if our orders are wrong? What do we do then?"_ Jesse had asked him, decades ago.

" _Jesse!"_ Ha had scolded, appalled because he had been scared. Scared of thinking that very question.

" _I'm just asking! Tup kept going on about orders. That-that good soldiers follow orders. But he shot a_ Jedi _, Kix! A Jedi, one of our generals, and said it was an order. If that was—"_

" _He wasn't right in the head, Jesse,"_

"— _rders then how can we be sure that any of our orders can be trusted?"_

Kix had ignored Jesse for awhile after that conversation. Now he wished he hadn't. He knew the risks of life on the front. That any moment could be your last.

He had been in denial. They had all been more than shaken after that incident.

He hadn't forgiven Jesse in time to say goodbye.

But then the door to the medbay whooshed open and Kix jumped up as a human girl crept in. The girl was lean, with cocoa colored hair tied up in three vertical buns and dressed in a muted blue and tan garb. She studied Kix for a moment but quickly averted her attention to the bacta pod. Or, more accurately, the man inside.

"How is he?" Her voice was sure, with a bit of a hard edge to it. She carried a core accent though, but, as far as Kix could tell, she looked and behaved nothing like someone from a core planet would.

"He's stable and expected to make a healthy recovery. The bacta will be able to heal him, but it won't be an easy process; he's lost a lot of blood." she glanced back up at him, "Ma'am." he added as an afterthought.

"Oh...will he- do you know when he'll wake up?" Her voice had lost its commanding tone.

"He could come to anytime between three days and three weeks, ma'am,"

The girl sighed but seemed to be expecting something of the sort. Minutes passed, but she didn't press him for any more information.

So Kix returned the favor. Finishing up his work and leaving the lonely girl to say her goodbyes. This was a war, after all.

 _Fin_

—

 **AN:** yea so I might be messing with the timeline accidentally for the sake of convenience but idk...

Is my writing inconsistent? Yes. Am I going to fix it? No.

Another chapter up congratulate me guys.

XOXO-QueendomofCrows


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